


Shareholding

by misura



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Pronunciation,” Denny said, leaning back. “A matter of pronunciation.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shareholding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [debirlfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/gifts).



“I mean, no offense to you, of course, Alan,” Denny said in that soothing, _lying_ voice of his that Alan would have found immensely annoying had it not been for the fact that Denny really _was_ as magnificent a human being as he considered himself to be and thus, by definition, beyond either reproof or liability. “It's just that Shirley ... well, _you_ know.”

Denny's 'you' was a work of art. It implied fondness - Alan might even go so far as to call it 'love', intimacy, and a considerable level of trust. All lies, of course, but magnificent ones.

“Breasts?” Alan could do breasts. He might even manage breast-feeding, given enough time to prepare, although Denny didn't really strike him as the kind of man with breast-feeding fantasies. Still, it wasn't _always_ the quiet ones. “Are you a breast kind of guy, Denny?”

Denny's vaguely pained expression seemed to imply that perhaps he was, a little, or not at all. “You're being crude again. The mystery of woman, reduced to a single body part - outrageous.”

“I couldn't agree more.” The mystery of _man_ , Alan would have said, possibly using it in the (rather sexist) sense of the word where it was meant to include both sexes. “So what is it, then?”

These days, Alan was quite comfortable viewing Shirley as - well, a fellow shareholder, rather than a competitor, but even so, the matter intrigued him. There were differences between the two of them, absolutely, only a blind, deaf and stupid man (or woman) could have denied that and yet ... and yet Denny's statement that Alan might be inferior to her _itched_. It _tickled_. It hinted at things not previously spoken of, insights as yet unseen into the workings of the mind of Denny Crane.

Denny shifted in his seat a bit, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I think ... what it is ...“

Alan leaned forwards in spite of himself. “Yes?”

“Pronunciation,” Denny said, leaning back. “A matter of pronunciation.”

“Well.” Not quite what he had expected, Alan admitted to himself, which was, of course, the whole point. Someone predictable would be ... predictable, whereas Denny was comfortably, reliably _un_ predictable, except in those things that were truly important. “I shall need to practice more, then. May I ... ?”

Denny looked not quite eager, but ever so slightly _keen_ , perhaps. Or perhaps Alan simply enjoyed indulging in wishful thinking, the way he enjoyed indulging in nearly everything else.

Alan debated getting up, out of his chair, closer to Denny, then decided against it. _A matter of pronunciation_ , Denny had said. Not volume, not intonation - pure and simple pronunciation. Child's play, really.

“Denny Crane.”

Hit and miss, Alan judged, for all that Denny bestowed another kindly smile on him. “Cigar?”

“Was I even close?” Stupid question.

“You are ... young. Younger,” Denny amended. “It will come to you in time. Or not. Alan Shore.”

“I think I owe you a cigar.”

“Good. I just lit the last one.”


End file.
